


Sometimes "here" is a very difficult place

by anightskyperson



Series: I'm sorry about the blood in your mouth (I wish it was mine) [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brain Damage, Concussions, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Missions Gone Wrong, New York City, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark-centric, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anightskyperson/pseuds/anightskyperson
Summary: peter falls out of the sky during a mission- tony deals with the concussed mess.
Series: I'm sorry about the blood in your mouth (I wish it was mine) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707067
Comments: 2
Kudos: 101





	Sometimes "here" is a very difficult place

**Author's Note:**

> work title by meg howrey

_“Shit. What the hell was that?”_

  
_“I think I just saw Spidey fall out of the sky.”_

  
“What?”, Tony asked breathlessly, firing a beam at the creature attacking him. “Peter? Do you copy?”

  
No answer.

  
_“I think his comm went dead.”_

  
“Steve, do you have eyes on him?”

  
_“Not anymore, but it looked pretty bad. Can someone check on him? I’m kind of-, “_ a grunt, _“-busy.”_

  
“Fri? Where is he?” 

  
_“Mr. Parker is currently at 9107 Greystone Lane,”_ the AI responded.

  
Tony took off, following the directions Friday projected for him.

  
“Guys, can you wrap this up without me?”

  
_“Yeah,”_ Sam said, _“don’t worry. Me and Redwing got this!”_

  
_“Very funny,”_ Cap retorted. _“Can you at least come down here and help me?”_ A clang of metal.

  
_“I’m on Amherst.”_

  
_“On it.”_

  
With that, the two went silent, focusing on the task at hand. But Tony had stopped listening a while ago anyway, anxiety thrumming through his body and making his heart race.

  
“Come on…,” he mumbled under his breath, looking for a red suit among the rubble. 

  
He had a bad feeling in his gut. How hard of a landing could destroy the comms on impact?

  
All of a sudden, he saw a red spot on the ground beneath him and dove down, trying hard to suppress a wave of nausea. Please just be okay, he thought. _Please_.

  
His breath hitched as he saw Peter lying motionlessly, arm laid out in an unnatural position. 

  
“Guys, I see him. I’ll be right back.”

  
Helmet retracting into his suit as he landed, he quickly approached the boy.

  
“Kid, you alright?”

No reaction.

“Shit.”

  
Tony kneeled down and instinctively felt for a pulse. He found a faint one.

  
“Peter? Can you hear me?”

He hastily peeled Peter’s mask off to check on him, only to find a contused face: His nose was bleeding, there was a pretty serious laceration by his left temple, blood having soaked the mask- and he was sporting a black eye.

  
“Jesus,” Tony wheezed. He forced himself to take a breath and brace himself.

  
“Kid? Do you hear me?”

  
He heard a faint throaty noise, hard to make out from the battle still going on in the distance.

  
“Peter?”

  
His eyelids fluttered.

  
“That's it, kiddo, just open your eyes, come on-”

  
Peter groaned, squinting against the harsh light.

  
"Kid. Look at me.”

  
Peter strained to keep his eyes open, slowly dragging them to fixate somewhere over Tony’s left shoulder.

  
“Oh, geez. You’re kind of missing the point here.”

  
“Huh?”

  
“Okay, at least you’re listening. That’s- that’s something,” Tony said, hesitant relief in his voice.

  
“Your pupils are pretty blown, though. Crap. I should have a protocol for this.”

  
“T’ny?," Peter wheezed.

  
“Yeah?”

  
He let out a high-pitched whine.

  
“I know, kid. You took a pretty hard fall. You’re concussed as hell... Can you tell me where you are?”

  
“’rm hurts.” he whimpered.

  
“I know, Pete, but that’s not our biggest problem. I need you to listen. Can you tell me where you are?”

  
“Uh…,” Peter swallowed hard, clearly having little idea about what Tony just asked. 

  
“…'dunno...home?”

  
Shit. He hadn’t thought that the kid would be so out of it. 

  
“Fri, I need medics here, asap.”

  
_“Medical personnel will arrive in 9 Minutes.”_

  
“Fri, what can I- “

  
He tried to breathe against the onslaught of panic threatening to overwhelm him. This was so wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was only supposed to be a small mission, not the kid dying of a goddamn brain bleed.

  
“What can I- uh- “ 

  
_“Sir, your heart rate is elevated. You may be experiencing a p- “_

  
_"Tony? Do you copy? You gotta get out of there.”_

  
“Steve?”

  
_“You gotta get in that building. We thought we got them, but we missed the ones that came from the second portal. They’re headed in your direction.”_

  
“Oh, shit. Okay.” This wasn’t the time to panic.

  
He looked down at Peter, whose eyes were closed again.

  
“No. Nope, no falling asleep.” He tapped against the boy’s cheek. 

  
“Stay awake. We gotta move.”

  
Peter drowsily opened his eyes halfway only to look at the sky again, flat out apathetic.

  
“Okay, kiddo. This is gonna hurt. Here we go- “ 

  
Tony gripped him under his shoulders, trying to heave the kid into an upright position; dragging the lethargic Peter backwards into the building, the boy’s head uselessly lolling from his shoulders.

  
_“Tony. You got cover?”_

  
“Yeah,” Tony strained and walked the last few steps into the building, guiding Peter’s limp body to the ground.

  
“Hey,” he checked, “you still with me?”

  
Peter blinked, a puzzled look on his face, confused by all the movement. “’t’s going on?”

  
“You got a concussion.”

  
“Oh.”

  
A beat.

  
“’m sorry.”

  
Tony smiled sadly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  
He looked at Peter.

  
“I just hope you’re not dying on me.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, 

“that’d be great.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretty short and definetly took too long to write for what it ended up being  
> but i still liked doing it :)
> 
> take care- go eat a snack, have some water, open the window and maybe sit there for a bit x


End file.
